The Cursed Lands

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  “I just follow orders,” said the assassin with a shrug. “Does that really make us so different? You also follow orders, do you not?”

  “Shut up,” Sarzen snapped. He lowered his sword, aiming its tip at the assassin’s chest. “I’m not going to let you leave. I’m going to kill you here and then drag your body to the Elect Council so they can know that the gates have been breached.”

  “You don’t have to fight me, you know,” said the assassin. “As I said, I will let you leave unharmed if you will just go and tell your leaders that the days of your people are numbered. You don’t have to make this complicated, you know.”

  “It became ‘complicated’ when you attacked Renuk in front of me,” said Sarzen. “Anyway, I’m done talking. I’m going to kill you here and now!”

  Sarzen ran at the assassin, who didn’t move from his position near Renuk. Sarzen thought that the assassin was perhaps taken aback by Sarzen’s own initiative; at least, that’s what Sarzen would think, since he hadn’t actually attacked someone like this before and wasn’t sure what the usual response to being attacked was.

  But when Sarzen slashed at the assassin, the Draymens raised his bloody bone sword and blocked the blow. He didn’t appear to even put any effort into it; even though Sarzen was putting all of his strength into forcing the Draymens back, the assassin stood his ground, a look of boredom on his face.

  “Is this the best you’ve got?” said the Draymens. “I’ve heard many stories about the great Warrior Priests, but you are hardly a challenge.”

  The Draymens assassin suddenly pushed back. Sarzen staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet, but managed to regain his balance just as the Draymens lunged forward with his bone blade aimed for Sarzen’s hands.

  Sarzen, however, deflected the assassin’s attack. He swiped at the assassin, but his opponent ducked and easily avoided the attack. The assassin then tried to stab Sarzen in the stomach, which Sarzen managed to dodge, but the assassin’s blade still cut through Sarzen’s coat and managed to break his skin slightly.

  Sarzen immediately brought his sword down on the assassin’s head, but the assassin melted into shadow, causing Sarzen’s sword to miss entirely.

  Pulling his sword back, Sarzen looked around the room, trying to spot the assassin. He wasn’t sure where the assassin could have gone; there really wasn’t anywhere to hide. Yet he’d just seen the assassin literally melt into the shadow. He was trying to remember if he had ever heard any stories about Draymens that could do that and recalled a few stories about Draymens hiding in the shadows and striking from the darkness when their enemies least expected it.

  But I didn’t know that they literally hid in the shadows, Sarzen thought, whipping his head this way and that to try to spot the hiding demon.

  That was when Sarzen heard bone scraping against rock and looked to the left just in time to see the assassin’s bone sword coming at him. Sarzen ducked, allowing the sword to pass by overhead, and then struck at the assassin, who was standing just a few feet away from him.

  This time, Sarzen’s blade struck home, cutting through the assassin’s abdomen. The assassin shrieked in pain, a sound that made Sarzen flinch.

  That was when Sarzen realized that the shriek had just been a distraction, because the assassin brought his sword directly down on Sarzen’s head. Sarzen raised his golden sword and managed to block the attack, but now the Draymens assassin was forcing him down. Although the assassin was very thin, he was incredibly strong, forcing Sarzen down to the floor on his knees.

  Sarzen gritted his teeth, doing his best to hold back against the Draymens, but the assassin was too strong for him to push back. He wished he knew where the assassin was getting this strength, but then he remembered that Draymens were said to have superhuman strength, so he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

  Still, Sarzen gathered all of his strength and forced the Draymens back, but it was no use, because the Draymens just increased its own strength and forced him down even lower.

  Sarzen looked up into the assassin’s eyes. He saw a gleeful, murderous look in them, like the assassin had apparently decided to kill Sarzen rather than spare him. The assassin’s eyes looked more like the eyes of a beast than a person, which actually scared Sarzen a little.

  “Come now, human,” said the assassin, his voice mocking. “I have you right where I want you. If you give up, I might just let you live.”

  Sarzen gritted his teeth again. “N-Never. You … attacked my High Priest.”

  The assassin sighed. “Very well, then. I will simply—”

  The assassin didn’t get to finish his sentence, because at that moment a strangled, pained yell came from nowhere and then High Priest Renuk—his coat extremely bloody—came out of nowhere, a dagger in hand, and drove the blade straight into the side of the assassin’s body.

  The assassin shrieked in pain again. He lashed out with his hand, hitting Renuk in the face and causing him to fall back onto the floor, but removing his hand from his sword turned out to be a mistake, because it meant there was less pressure keeping Sarzen down.

  With a yell of triumph, Sarzen pushed up, shoving the assassin backwards, who nearly lost his balance. Rising to his full height, Sarzen slashed at the assassin, cutting a thick wound down his chest and causing the assassin to actually drop his bone sword in pain.

  Sarzen swung his sword again, this time aiming for the assassin’s neck, but then the assassin ducked, allowing Sarzen’s sword to go over his head. But instead of attacking again, the assassin staggered backwards, clutching his bleeding wound and glaring at Sarzen.

  “You … won this one, human,” said the assassin in a panting voice. “But you still won’t be able to save your precious city from us …”

  The assassin sank into the shadows of the floor, leaving behind a few droplets of his gray blood where he’d been standing mere moments ago.

  But Sarzen had no time to worry about that right now. He ran over to Renuk, who was now lying on the floor as still as a rock.

  Kneeling over him and taking him into his arms, Sarzen said, “High Priest! Are you all right?”

  Renuk’s fur coat was stained red with blood, while his skin had grown incredibly pale. His pulse was so weak that Sarzen was certain that the High Priest must have already died between the time he attacked the assassin and the time he hit the floor.

  But then Renuk’s eyes flickered open and he looked up at Sarzen. But there was little life in Renuk’s eyes, like he was just barely clinging to life despite his earlier attack on the assassin.

  “Sarzen …” Renuk said, his voice dangerously weak. “I am sorry … I won’t make it …”

  “Don’t say that,” said Sarzen. Tears started to well in his own eyes, but he did not wipe them away. “I’ll get help, a healer. Someone who can close your wounds.”

  Sarzen was about to stand, but Renuk grabbed his wrist. Renuk’s old hand felt cold and slippery, but his grip was surprisingly strong, causing Sarzen to look down at him again.

  “No, my son, it is too late,” said Renuk, his voice so weak that Sarzen had to strain his ears to hear him. “I can already feel my life … slipping away …”

  “No, you’re wrong,” said Sarzen. “I’m going to get help and—”

  Renuk suddenly coughed loudly, actually coughing up blood. Sarzen felt blood flick onto his face, though his tears washed away most of it.

  Renuk looked into Sarzen’s eyes and said, “Serve … the Dragon Gods always. Preserve … the … Order …”

  Then Renuk stopped speaking. His pulse—which had been weak just seconds before—was nonexistent now. His head tilted backwards and he stopped breathing.

  All Sarzen could do was lower his head and cry.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  Helnia Alnem stood in the streets of Ars, the capital of Yores, playing with the beads on her necklace. She knew she shouldn’t have been doing that; today was a solemn ceremony, one that required
the utmost silence and seriousness. But ever since she’d become a mage, she’d picked up the habit of playing with her magical beads whenever she got nervous.

  Not that anyone seemed to notice. On both sides of the street, the throngs of people that usually filled the streets of Ars stood in silent reverence, their heads bowed and their hands folded before them. Only a few crying babies could be heard, but they were quickly silenced by their mothers, who would take them indoors or feed them in order to quiet them.

  Helnia was amazed at how silent everyone was. Most of the time, the streets of Ars were loud and bustling as people traded, merchants hawked their wares, and the sounds of other things that were typical of a big city. It was a very sharp contrast to Helnia’s quiet, small hometown of Iswor, a small town in the plains where everyone knew everyone and where the most noisy things were the braying of horses or the mooing of cattle.

  Or, at least, that was how Iswor had been, before the Draymens destroyed it and forced Helnia, her brother Sarzen, and their parents to flee to Ars for safety. That had been ten years ago, yet Helnia still had vivid memories of seeing houses destroyed, corpses of men who had fought against the invaders lying everywhere, creeks dirtied and dried up, and women and children fleeing. She also remembered her last memory of her parents as they lured the invading Draymens away from the survivors, her parents who were probably dead now.

  The reason Helnia thought about all of this was due to what happened just a couple of days ago. According to what Sarzen had told her, a Draymens assassin had somehow managed to break into the Dragon God Sanctuary and slay High Priest Renuk in cold blood. Sarzen had tried to save the High Priest, but had failed and Renuk had died.

  That had been two days ago. Today was the day of Renuk’s funeral. And Sarzen would be helping the other Warrior Priests carry Renuk’s casket to the graveyard where Renuk would be buried along with the previous High Priests.

  Though everyone was silent right now, Helnia sensed a deep sense of fear and dread in the people. She saw it in the way some people gripped their hands together tightly, the way others would occasionally glance at each other or up the street, a deep sense of fear and dread that Helnia had experienced back in Iswor when the Draymens were first spotted coming up the plains toward their town. She knew that the other survivors of Draymens attacks—and there were many in the city of Ars, especially from the last ten years when the attacks increased in number and ferocity—were probably feeling the same way.

  The people of Ars always believed it couldn’t happen to them, Helnia thought, brushing aside a strand of her long, dark hair. They believed their gates and their guardsmen would protect them. Looks like they were wrong.

  Not that that thought brought any joy into Helnia’s heart. She had hoped that Ars would stand against the Draymens, but it was plain now that no city, no town, no village in Yores was safe from those monsters. She was just grateful that her brother had survived his encounter with one; most people didn’t.

  Helnia remembered how Sarzen had looked on the day that he had told her about the High Priest’s death. He had looked totally shattered. He hadn’t been crying, but he had spoken in a monotone very unlike his normal, optimistic way of speaking. He had sounded like he had already emptied himself of all emotion, though Helnia knew that he would likely be grieving the High Priest for a long time.

  Renuk was the closest thing to a grandfather Sarzen ever knew, Helnia thought. Now I wish I had gotten to know him a little more.

  Helnia was not a Warrior Priest; in fact, she didn’t care much for the Warrior Priest Order, because they had always seemed like a throwback to an era that no longer existed. She hadn’t said that to Sarzen, of course, but it was the main reason she had never interacted with Renuk very much. She did find herself wondering whether Sarzen would stay in the Order or not after this; she supposed he probably would, unless the Order collapsed due to a lack of leadership, though that was unlikely.

  All of a sudden, the sound of a blaring horn swept through the street. A few murmurs among the people followed, which Helnia caught and understood to mean that it was the horn of the funeral procession about to make its way through the street.

  Raising her head just slightly, Helnia saw the funeral procession at the end of the street. There were four Warrior Priests—wearing the traditional Warrior Priest armor, including the dragon head-shaped helmet that concealed their faces—carrying between them a large, black casket with elaborate carvings of the Dragon Gods on its surface. Behind the casket were the other members of the Order, though unlike the casket carriers, they wore black robes of mourning rather than traditional Warrior Priest armor. But that didn’t mean they were unarmed; Helnia caught a glimpse of a sword tip peaking out from underneath the robes of a young Warrior Priest, who hastily covered it up before anyone else noticed.

  The procession moved slowly down the street, none of them saying a word. Although the helmets of the pallbearers made it impossible to see their faces, Helnia spotted Sarzen quickly; he was at the front right of the casket, identifiable thanks to the golden sword at his side. None of the pallbearers or other Warrior Priests looked at the people as they passed; they kept their faces fixed straight ahead on the path before them. But Helnia wished she could see Sarzen’s face; she wanted to know how he was feeling right now.

  The funeral procession soon passed Helnia. She noticed a handful of people uttering short, simple prayers to the Dragon Gods under their breaths. Helnia couldn’t hear them, since the people were muttering and murmuring, but she got the general gist. They were praying for Renuk’s soul and for the city’s protection from the Draymens. Helnia sympathized with their prayers, but she did not say a prayer herself because she didn’t worship the Dragon Gods, unlike her brother.

  Where are the Dragon Gods now, I wonder? Helnia thought. Will Sarzen keep serving them, even after Renuk’s death? Or will he stop?

  Once the funeral procession passed and turned down the corner of the street, the silent crowds on either side of the street broke apart. Some went after the procession, most likely to attend the funeral itself; others went to work or to their businesses, while still others returned to their homes. A handful stayed on the streets, still praying to the Dragon Gods, seemingly unaware of the fact that everyone else was leaving.

  Helnia herself intended to go to the funeral, because she wanted to be with Sarzen and give him support in this hard time. She was just about to walk down the street and follow the procession to the place where Renuk’s body would be laid to rest when a familiar voice behind her shouted, “Helnia!”

  Helnia paused and looked over her shoulder to see a tall, muscular man in a simple brown tunic and jerkin running toward her, his long black hair flowing behind him. He came to a stop next to Helnia, putting his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath, his bead necklace hitting against his chest.

  “Rothel?” said Helnia, looking at the man in confusion. “Where were you?”

  Rothel Oran—a close friend of Sarzen—stood upright and wiped the sweat off his forehead, which amazed Helnia, because it was so cold out that she didn’t know how anyone could work up a sweat in this weather. “I slept in. I forgot about the funeral procession, but tried to get here as quickly as possible when I remembered.”

  “What?” said Helnia. “I thought you were somewhere in the crowd with everyone else. You mean you didn’t see the procession at all?”

  “I didn’t,” Rothel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like I said, I slept in. I’m really sorry. I should have been here for Sarzen, but—”

  Helnia sighed in exasperation. “How could you possibly sleep in on a day like today? Were you up all night partying or something last night?”

  Rothel held up his hands sheepishly. “I’m just a heavy sleeper, that’s all. I forgot about the procession last night and only remembered it when I overheard a couple of guys talking about it outside my house.”

  Helnia just shook her head. She supposed she shouldn’t h
ave been very surprised; for as long as she’d known Rothel, he’d always had the bad habit of being late to important events. She had hoped he would at least make it to this one, but apparently he had not.

  “Did you see Sarzen?” said Rothel, glancing down the street in the general direction that the procession had gone. “I heard he was one of the pallbearers.”

  Helnia turned and started walking down the street; she didn’t want to be late for the funeral. “Yes. I don’t know if he noticed your absence, though.”

  Rothel immediately began walking beside her, saying, “Where are you going?”

  “The funeral, obviously,” said Helnia. She glanced at Rothel. “Where else?”

  “I’m coming with you, then,” said Rothel. “Maybe Sarzen won’t realize I didn’t see the procession if I go to the funeral.”

  Helnia frowned as they walked past a merchant selling apples. “Were you invited? I don’t remember Sarzen mentioning you.”

  “I was,” said Rothel indignantly. “I’m one of his best friends, after all. Why wouldn’t he invite me to the funeral?”

  “Never mind,” said Helnia, shaking her head. “I suppose if you are invited, then you are invited. Let’s just try not to be late for it.”

  “I won’t,” Rothel said, giving her the thumbs up. “I have all my business in order today, so we don’t need to worry about any interruptions or anything like that.”

  “I should hope not,” said Helnia. Then she looked at Rothel again, this time more curiously. “By the way, what kind of business do you do, anyway? I don’t remember you ever telling me about it.”

  “Oh, I just run errands around the city for various people,” said Rothel, waving off Helnia’s question like it was irrelevant. “I make good money doing it. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  Helnia nodded and decided not to ask any more specific questions about Rothel’s job because she didn’t want to be distracted from getting to the funeral. “Right. Well, I’m glad you got everything in order, anyway. Maybe we won’t be late for the funeral.”